


Oh! Darling

by andthemoondogs



Series: Two of Us [2]
Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: ANGST!!!, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 11:45:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17661992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andthemoondogs/pseuds/andthemoondogs
Summary: Paul finally gets John alone for a "business lunch" but he uses the time to discuss more pressing matters of the heart.





	Oh! Darling

**Author's Note:**

> This is a collaboration with https://m0rning-moon.tumblr.com!

Looking over the spread that lay on the table, Linda walked over to Paul with a smile. "Everything's heated up and ready for you two. You really think this'll work? That he'll listen?" she asked, a hand on Paul's arm.

"I hope so." Paul covered Linda's hand with his own, looking up at his wife from his seat at the table. "I guess the fact that he agreed to come at all without Yoko is a good sign, though." 

"I think it is," she smiled back. 

Standing up, he let his hand slide up her arm and planted a gentle kiss on her lips. "Thank you for doing this, love. You'll be alright, yeah? Call me if anything happens."

"Anything you need, babe," she said, pulling him into a hug, sighing happily. "I'll call you if anything happens, but try not to worry about me. I'll be fine." She pulled away from him and gave him another kiss. "I hope everything goes good. I'll be back later tonight around dinner time."

"Alright." With a hand on the small of Linda's back, Paul led her towards the door, helping her into her coat before stepping outside. "Take care. I love you," he said, kissing her goodbye.

"I love you, too," she smiled, giving him a wave as she headed out.

Not too much later, John arrived, seeing Linda passing him as he pulled in. He was _angry_ that Yoko hadn't been allowed to come, but he had agreed simply because it had been Paul nearly begging him to talk about something going on with the business side of things that they needed to "sort out." John took a deep breath and knocked hard on the door, waiting for Paul to answer.

Paul had meant to get himself a glass of water as he waited for John, but he'd only gotten as far as the sitting room when he heard loud knocking on the door. He took a deep breath - the _pounding_ could only mean John was beyond irritated already. He ran a hand through his hair as he walked back to the door, and forced himself to smile politely as he opened it. 

"Hi, John."

"Hello, Paul." John was, indeed, beyond irritated, and it showed in his voice. "Let's get this over with, yeah? Yoko'll be waiting for me."

"Y-yeah, of course," Paul stuttered, taken aback by John's hostility - although, really, he should be used to it by now. With a nod of his head, he led the way to the dining room, where he'd helped Linda set up the table for the two of them. "Have a seat. I'll get us something to drink. Water?"

John followed Paul into the house and looked around, a brow raising at the table. He knew Paul didn't cook, so Linda must have made them all this. Distracted, John looked at Paul, "Huh? Oh, yeah, 's fine." He refused to sit, though, simply because he was told to do so. He shoved his hands in his pockets instead and stood, looking over the food once more.

Paul returned with a pitcher full of water moments later, which he set down on the table. He lifted an eyebrow at John, before taking a seat at the head of the table.

"So. How was the honeymoon?" He asked, attempting to sound casual, despite the racing heart in his chest.

Sighing audibly, John sat down near Paul. "It was great. I think we got a good message across," he said, reaching for the pitcher to pour out a glass of water for himself. He didn't want to be here. This was far too hard---much harder than he thought it would ever be. Being with Paul alone, without anyone else around... it was a struggle. He missed him _so_ much and being here without Yoko to distract him made him hyper-aware of just **how much** he missed him.

"Yeah. Everybody's talking about it." Paul fixed himself a plate of food. "Did you have fun, though? Between all the interviews and stuff. I heard you were in Paris." He avoided John's eyes. "I know you like it there."

Following Paul's lead, John also fixed himself a plate of food, despite not being very hungry. "We had a lot of fun, yeah," he said. "Paris was great, too," he said, suddenly feeling _guilty_. He took a drink of water and stared for a moment a the food on his plate. "You didn't call me here to talk about Paris, though, did you? Shouldn't we be talking about the band?" he asked, finger pushing up his glasses on his nose.

"Well, uh-- _no_." Paul swallowed a mouthful of food, but it went down uncomfortably - he was _nervous_. Of course, it wasn't as though as Paul had nothing to discuss with John business-wise, but at this point, wishing for a solution to their problems that would appease all four members of the band was, frankly, grasping at straws. As if all the stress of the band's imminent breakup wasn't enough, there were multiple other things keeping him up at night. "There's something else I wanted to talk to you about first, though," he said, gaze fixed on his plate. He didn't quite have the courage to look at John.

John's gaze remained on Paul, a curious look in his eyes. This was no doubt going to be about Yoko and frankly, John was ready to fight about it. "Oh?" was all he said, though, waiting for Paul to drop the bomb he knew was coming. He had every right to have Yoko present at all times and he was thinking to himself how the hell he let himself be talked into this whole one-on-one meeting in the first place.

"I didn't like the way we... left things, you know - after India," Paul began, tentatively glancing between his food and John. "I've been thinking about it ever since then. We... got wrapped up in other stuff, and I understand that. I get it. But we never... talked about it, afterwards." The discomfort was clear in his eyes, in the way he played with the food in his plate and avoided John's eyes. He _hated_ this - he was never good at talking about his feelings. _Christ_ , at the age of twenty-six he could only recall _one_ time he spoke about the loss of his mother, which happened over a decade ago. Still, _this_ was important, even if it made him uneasy. If _only_ to see if John would pay attention or listen to him for a little longer than a few minutes.

John's eyes widened at the way Paul threw out his feelings. He was never one to do so. Suddenly, his heart was racing and there was a lump in his throat. He had tried to bury all the feelings he himself had about it. He threw everything into Yoko to **forget** about Paul--- not like it had worked. John was silent for a good bit, unsure of what to say. He fiddled with his fork and looked down at the food on his plate, his appetite suddenly _completely_ gone. 

Finally, looking back up at Paul, he spoke, "I didn't like it, either."

Paul nodded, forcing himself to eat another mouthful. He had to wash it down with some water. "I've been thinking about that a lot. And..." 

_And_ what? _And I'm sorry I didn't even bother to let you know I was getting married? I'm sorry I didn't invite you? And I regret telling you no, because I never thought it would mean I would lose you forever? And I miss you so much it fucking hurts?_ Paul had no idea what to say. There was _so much_ he was sorry for. So many things he wished he could take back.

 

John waited to hear what Paul had to say during that long pause, mind racing with all the things he'd been burying ever since India. He took another bite and chewed slowly as he waited because _Christ_ , he didn't know what to say. He was fucking speechless. 

Paul took a deep breath, trying to find words to say. "I never wanted us to _end_." It took him less than a second to realize what he'd said, though, so he rushed to correct it. "I mean-- not in the way that we did."

"We just wanted different things, I guess..." John said quietly. "I don't know what you want me to do, Paul... I wanted more than you were willing to give..." There was a long pause this time on John's end before he spoke again. "I don't like the way things are, though. I..." Why couldn't he just say he fucking **missed** him? He shrugged, looking over at Paul with sad eyes.

Paul had been looking between John and his food for a while, but when he looked up to find John staring back at him, a wistful look in his eyes - Paul couldn't look away. "I don't like it, either," he said honestly, softly.

"I don't know how to fix it," he admitted, gaze locked on Paul. "Things have changed so much..." But the truth was, his feelings for Paul hadn't changed at all - he'd just buried them with anger.

"I don't know if we _can_ , at this point." Paul sighed. "I just... I just wanted you to know that I never stopped thinking about it, you know." He ran a hand through his hair, then letting it rest on the back of his neck as he looked away from John. "I never stopped caring about you. I want you to know that."

John had forced himself to stop thinking about it, throwing everything he had into Yoko. It was easier if he didn't think about it. About Paul. But now, faced with this, he was unable to think about anything _but_ Paul. He wasn't sure what to do with this information, honestly. "Sorta feels like you did..." he said, with no truth whatsoever to it. It was more the other way around. That John was projecting he didn't care about Paul anymore and he fucking _knew_ it. He didn't want Paul to bring it up, though, naturally. "What are you tryin' to say, anyway?" he added quickly, not wanting Paul to say John had been in the wrong.

Paul swallowed, biting down on his lower lip nervously. Christ, John wasn't making this any easier.

After a moment of silence, Paul finally looked up to meet John's eyes. "I'm sorry," he said, holding eye contact for as long as he could bear to. "I suppose that's all I _can_ say at this point. And I mean it." Taking a drink of water to help him swallow the lump in his throat, Paul let a little sigh escape from his lips. "I didn't know that saying _no_ then would lead us to where we are now. If I had, I might have made a different choice. I don't know _what_ I would've done, but I'd have... I don't know. Tried harder." He shook his head. "I think about it a lot. Especially lately, with... you know."

Paul was _sorry_? He would've made a different choice? Did this mean... did this mean there was _hope_ for them? John suddenly paid more attention, a smirk playing at his lips. "Been thinkin' about me lately, eh?" John couldn't deny that stirred up feelings in him that had been long since buried, the playful tone he had taken reminiscent of the early days. "So that's the real reason you called me over? Because you'd been thinkin' about me?" he asked honestly curious, brows raising.

Paul stood his ground. Although there was a torrent of feelings in his heart, he tried to be _sensible_ about this - he owed it to his wife, and ultimately and in a roundabout way, to John and to himself. He knew that whatever happened between them, if _anything_ , it would be the last time. He didn't want to break John's heart again. He didn't want to put _himself_ through the pain of allowing himself a taste of what he longed for but couldn't have, only to have it be taken away from him.

"I called you here because we needed to talk. I don't-- I don't know what to expect from all this. I don't even know if I should expect anything, really." He shook his head, looking down.

"Well, what do you want to expect?" John asked, tilting his head a little at Paul's words. "I mean, you have to have an idea of what you wanted if you went through so much to get me here. I know it wasn't easy," he admitted quietly, butterflies flitting around his stomach. Clearing his throat, he continued, "But you have the floor, Paulie, so lay it on me. What's on your mind?"

The more John spoke, the more Paul's heart tightened in his chest. He was right, he was always fucking right. He could see right through him.

John was his weakness. Being under his stare and the subject of his undivided attention awoke so many things in Paul - thoughts he'd tried to make himself believed had been silenced, wishes he hoped had been buried deep enough not to resurface again. John sounded almost _hopeful_ , and Paul's heart screamed at him to take advantage of his situation, because this may well be the last time he would have the opportunity to. He found himself amidst the same dilemma he was in a year ago, in India - there was no doubt in his mind that he loved John more than anything, but at the same time, he had to be _responsible_ and make the right choices for both of them. This time, however, from previous experience, he _knew_ that John was perfectly capable of living without him, should he choose to turn his back on him.

"Don't make me say it, John."

John scooted his chair closer to Paul's so their arms were touching, leaning to look into Paul's eyes. Eyes that he knew like the back of his hand... eyes that held everything he ever wanted. So familiar, yet so sad at the current time. John's eyes fell quickly to Paul's lips then back to hold his gaze again. _Don't make me say it, John_. Oh, how his heart **soared** at the prospect of what Paul wanted to say. Could it be? Could he have changed his mind?

It seemed like a lifetime before he heard himself speaking, tone playful as ever with a smirk on his lips, "Say _what_ , Paul?"

A hollow, sad laugh escaped Paul, in spite of himself - or perhaps he laughed _at_ himself, at the absurdity of the situation. The fact that John could _still_ do this to him - that he could make Paul do nearly anything he wanted him to at twenty-six, just like he'd been able to when they were teenagers - was nothing short of _ridiculous_ in the eyes of the younger.

"I miss you."

The smirk turned into more of a genuine smile. His eyes lit up and John found himself leaning over the chair, nearly standing up to press his lips to Paul's, something he'd only _dreamt_ of this past year. Paul's lips were softer than he remembered them being and he felt flushed that he had _forgotten_ that aspect.

Paul's hands flew to John's face, one on each side - whether to pull him closer or push him away, he didn't know. An alarm sounded in his head: _stop_ , no, this is wrong, you shouldn't do this; but at the same time, kissing John again was nothing short of a _dream_. It had his heart in somersaults, made him feel _alive_ again. He had no choice, really, other than to allow himself to enjoy it for a moment, during which he could swear time had stopped.

John made no move to stop kissing Paul. In fact, he deepened the kiss, tongue pushing past those soft lips to tangle with Paul's in a way they hadn't done in so long. He let out a soft moan into Paul's mouth, pressing against the chair wishing to the universe that those stupid arms weren't there, that he could be closer to Paul. He wasn't going to back away, though, not when this opportunity had presented itself the way it had. There was something _magical_ about kissing Paul, honestly, and he couldn't get enough.

The reality of dreams, though, is that at one point, they have to _end_. 

Despite wanting nothing more than to continue kissing John until the end of the world, Paul pulled away, heart shattering into a million pieces as he caught sight of a glint of confusion in John's eyes, behind foggy frames. Instinctively, he licked his lips, savoring what was left of John's taste on them. "I-- I'm so sorry. We can't." He whispered, sad eyes barely able to hold John's gaze.

John's thumb and forefinger moved to hold Paul's chin, keeping his head up. "'Course we can..." he said, his own head dipping down, peering at Paul over the rim of his glasses. "It's only me..."

Paul shut his eyes - it was _too much_. He couldn't bear to look at John right now. "We can't, John." He shook his head. "Linda's pregnant," he finally blurted, eyes glossy with tears as he opened them.

It was a bit of a shock to hear, but it didn't change anything on John's end. "And? What's that got to do with us? Not like you have to worry about getting _me_ pregnant, too," he said with a soft chuckle, even though his heart was breaking at the tears in Paul's eyes.

Paul shook his head again, one tear escaping from his eyes - which he promptly wiped away. "I'm about to be a _father_ , John. This-- I can't do this to her. It's not right."

John was about to go off on a tirade about Cynthia and Julian and their long-standing relationship then and what did he mean it wasn't _right_ when something registered in his brain. "Wait---when did you find out Linda was pregnant?"

"About a month ago. It's... it's why we rushed to get married," Paul explained. "We decided everything in two, three days. I just-- I knew I had to marry her." He sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. "I love her. I really do. And I want to be a good husband, a good _father_ , but I just--" He interrupted himself, realizing what he was doing. He shouldn't be telling John this. He shouldn't be telling _anyone_ this. Tears welled up in his eyes and he wiped at his face furiously. "I'm sorry. I don't-- I don't know why I'm telling you this. I shouldn't--" He stood up from his chair. "--I'm sorry. I'll be back in a minute. Forget-- forget all _this_."  


That changed things. That changed things _so much_. The only words he could focus on were the first that Paul had said---that they'd rushed to get married, to make it 'right.' Just like he'd done with Cynthia. His heart broke at Paul's distress and he wanted to hold him, to tell him it would be okay. That maybe **they** could be okay. John stood up moments after Paul did, shaking his head and reaching out to gently grab Paul's arm, failing and instead grabbing his hand. "Don't. Don't run away from me. Don't make the same mistake I did." He wasn't even sure which mistake he was referring to; Cynthia, India, he had no idea. All he knew was that he needed Paul to _stay_. This news was _world changing_. Quickly, thoughts of Yoko flashed through his mind - fuck, had John made a mistake, too? He pushed those thoughts aside and his eyes frantically searched Paul's.

"I can't. I _can't_." Paul repeated the words like a mantra, more to himself than to John. He _hated_ to be in this position. He shouldn't be seen like this. He was meant to be _strong_. In control.

He had to _get out_ of this. Out of sight. He needed to be alone; to pick up his pieces before he showed his face to the world again.

Although it pained him to, he pulled his hand free from John's, darting out of the dining room.

"Paul!" he called out as the younger man ran, immediately following him through the house. Grabbing Paul's wrist this time, John pulled a bit to get his attention. "It's only me," he repeated, a pleading look in his eyes. "Please, Paulie..." he said in a gentle, pleading tone. He wanted him to talk to him, to let him hold him and tell him it was going to be okay. They could get through this now that John knew exactly what was going on.

Paul shook his head. "If it'd been anyone else in this world, John, it would have been so much easier," he said, equally as softly, not pulling away this time - his heart wouldn't let him. "You need to let me go," he said, fingers curling around John's wrist, pulling John's hand into his own. "I'm sorry."

There was no way he could walk away a second time. Especially not now after learning that Paul had only married Linda for the same reason he himself had married Cynthia. "I _can't_ ," John said, pulling Paul closer to him, his free hand cupping Paul's face. " _Please_ ," he whispered, lips moving dangerously close to Paul's.

Although Paul wanted to, he _didn't_ kiss John. Instead, he let his head fall to John's shoulder, nose burying in his neck - hoping John's skin would absorb the sound of the quiet sobs that insisted on escaping him. He stayed there for a while, internally telling himself that this was _allowed_ , that he wasn't doing anything wrong. That he _needed_ this, if only for a few minutes. He didn't believe himself just yet, but perhaps if he repeated it enough times he would, eventually.

John would take whatever he could from Paul right now and if this was what Paul needed, he could give it to him. He held him, arms wrapped around the younger man, keeping him close to his chest. The feel of their bodies pressed together felt like _home_ but John's heart broke hearing Paul's soft sobs. He lifted a hand to stroke through Paul's hair and he pressed a kiss to the top of his head, nuzzling his own against the younger's, giving him all the time he needed right now. "It's gonna be okay, Paulie," he said softly.

With time, Paul's sobs became quieter and sparse, but didn't cease. Likewise, he stepped away from John's embrace, but didn't let go of his hand. "I love her, John," he said, voice weak. "I love you, too, but-- but she _needs_ me."

Letting go of Paul physically _hurt_ , but at least their hands were still linked. "I love you, too," he said. "And I need you, Paul. I need you, too," he admitted, stepping a little closer to Paul. He **ached** for that closeness again now that he'd had a taste. "Please, just..." he didn't know what he wanted to say, but he knew he couldn't let Paul get away again. He reached for the back of Paul's neck and pulled him in for another kiss, a quick yet passionate one.

Paul caught John's face in his hands as they parted, holding it just inches away from his own. He simply stared at him, wordlessly, for a moment, thumb brushing lightly over John's lower lip - and then finally, after what felt like an eternity later, he took a step back. "I'm sorry," Paul said again, but this time, there was finality in his voice. "I need you to leave, John."

John looked at Paul with confusion, lips slightly parted as he tried to make sense of this. "I don't understand. She's just pregnant. It's not the end of the world. _You_ called me here today, not the other way around. You _wanted_ me here, or did you forget?" John said, a little aggravated that Paul was trying to kick him out after everything.

"John, this-- _this_ is the reason why I called you here. To tell you this. I wanted to be open with you, and to end this in a… _better_ way. Linda, the baby - it changes everything." Paul did his best to explain it to John, but it was clear that the two of them had very different attitudes towards fatherhood. John spent most of his son's life away from him - to be a present father simply didn't matter to him (or immediately occur to him as a thought) the same way that it did for Paul, and he couldn't blame him, really - he never _had_ a father himself, and thus never got to know what a present father was like. It came as no surprise to Paul or to anyone that he didn't know how to be one, most of the time. He knew he had to thread carefully with his subject, though, as it was a delicate one for John. "With Jules and Cyn-- it was different. I can't do that."

All John could think about was losing Paul again at this point. His face scrunched in disbelief, "How is this any different? You married her for the same reason I married Cyn. Because she got knocked up. You can still be father and have me. I did it so why can't you do it, too?"

"I-- Because I'm not _you_ , John!" Paul said, exasperated. "I need to be there for my child - I need to be a good father, a good husband. I can't do that while I cheat on my wife!"

For the first time in a long time, John mulled over the words in his mind before he spoke. He chewed on the inside of his lower lip, feeling the _rage_ boiling inside. "So that's what this is about, eh? You thinkin' you're better than me? Paul Bloody McCartney thinks he's better than everyone else! That's hardly newsworthy these days. You're not as great as you think, Paul. The public may not see it, but I do. I know who you _really_ are."

"I never said I was better than you!" Paul spoke over John, but the latter didn't stop. Shaking his head, Paul had no other choice than to just let him say what he wanted, until one sentence in particular caught his attention. "What are you talking about - who I _really_ am?"

John was caught off guard, mostly because he was just saying whatever came out of his mouth. He paused, thinking for a brief moment before answering. "Well, you certainly didn't have any qualms about being my mistress! Didn't phase you at all that I had a kid and a wife. Now suddenly when you're the one with a kid and a wife you're too good for me. I see how it is," he huffed.

“ _Mistress_?! I was with you before you even _met_ Cynthia!” Paul snapped back, going along with the fight because it just made it easier, honestly. “If anything, she was your bloody mistress.”

"However you wanna look at it," he snapped back with venom. "You're still no better than me, despite whatever lies you're telling yourself." John was **angry** , but there was nothing he could do. He knew Paul was set on this. It hurt to get him back and lose him all in the span of a day. It was too much for him to even process at this point.

It was a fruitless endeavor, really, to try and convince John that what he was saying had nothing to do with perceiving himself as better than him. Besides, even though fighting with John was never something Paul _enjoyed_ doing, in this situation it was definitely easier than the alternative, which involved crying and vulnerability and a wealth of things Paul was _terrible_ at. Fighting - he could do that. It was a territory he navigated with ease and had ample experience in.

" _Lies_." Paul scoffed. "All I ever did was try to be the best I could to you _and_ to Linda. It's more than you can say for _yourself_ , isn't it?"

Paul's words _infuriated_ John, hands clenching into fists at his side. "Oh, fuck you, Paul. You fucking cunt. I can't believe I wasted my time comin' here. Should've known it'd turn into **this**. " John spun around on his heels, heading towards the front door. "I'm outta here," he said, flinging the door open, desperately wanting Paul to stop him.

But Paul could do nothing but watch John go. 

He could do nothing but watch as John turned a corner and disappeared from view, the loud thud of the door slamming behind him following a few seconds later. He did nothing to stop the tears that began to flow from his eyes, as he realized this was _the end_. 

He'd done it. He'd broken John's heart. He ended their relationship forever. This was the end of John and Paul, and a leaping step towards the end of the Beatles, too; an end to everything Paul knew and loved and had worked so hard to achieve, up to this point. He was more than letting it die, he was _killing it_ with his own hands, and that alone was evidence enough to the fact that he never deserved any of it, anyway. 

He looked over the spread on the table, sucking in a breath as he nodded to himself. _That_ part of his life was done - dead, six feet under in an iron casket. But, hell, he'd sooner die than ruin this second chance at happiness that was offered to him by Linda. Silently, as he cleaned up the table, he made himself the promise to be the best husband and the best father he had it in him to be - and he knew _that_ was something he could go through with.


End file.
